


White Lies

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: I Don't Even Know, Mirror Universe, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Thinking about the last couple of weeks still gives her emotional whiplash, and he plays such a central part in all of it.





	White Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo. That episode, huh?  
> I am fully, entirely ignoring all that paedo space daddy BS that's going around because ??? Mirror!Phillippa isn't exactly the most trustworthy person around.
> 
> This is set in some potential future where they have returned to the Prime Universe and Mirror!Lorca has been sent to prison.

When all is said and done, when they are back in their universe, when finally a truce with the Klingons has been established, Michael boards a shuttle to the maximum security prison, the same one she was incarcerated in. That feels like a lifetime ago.

She waits, in one of the visiting areas, a small white room with what is obviously a two-way mirror on one side, a door on the other. The lights have been dimmed somewhat below standard, she can tell. Can’t be cruel to the prisoners, she thinks with a scoff. There’s a table, two chairs, bolted to the floor. Nothing else. No distractions, she thinks first, then, nothing you could use as a weapon.

She sits, closes her eyes, centres herself. Or at least attempts to. The knowledge that he will walk through the door in a matter of minutes makes it harder than she has anticipated. Thinking about the last couple of weeks still gives her emotional whiplash, and he plays such a central part in all of it.

The door opens, much too soon, and there he is, shackled and flanked by two guards, but from the look on his face, you’d think they were meeting for dinner. He looks genuinely pleased to see her, and Michael stamps on the spark of emotion in her chest. Instead she squares her shoulders and waits.

Lorca slides into the chair opposite hers, and she nods at the guards. The door closes behind them as they leave, and for a long moment, there is nothing but the quiet background hum of the ship. They stare at each other, his bright blue calmly meeting her dark eyes, until he smiles.

“It’s good to see you, Michael.”

She wants to look away. She wonders why the hell she came here in the first place. Instead, she shrugs. “I wish I could say the same,” and that hurts him. It’s just a subtle twitch of his lip but it’s so obvious to her now. Now that she knows.

He leans forward, clasps his hands in front of him on the table. Lets his eyes wander, down her face, the column of her neck, every little bit of her he can reach with his gaze, and it makes her skin crawl. His smile has morphed into something cruel when he looks up at her again. “How’s Lieutenant Tyler?”

There is an image in her mind’s eye, so vivid she has trouble telling if it’s just her imagination or if it’s really happening: her leaping across the table and punching that smile off his face. She blinks, and the vision is gone. She forces an answering smirk onto her lips. “He’s recovering. Much faster than anticipated.” 

Not fast enough, not nearly enough, his mind still broken and his guilt weighing on him so, so heavily.

Still. Recovering.

“That’s good to hear.” It sounds almost, _almost_ genuine. 

They go back to staring at each other, and again he breaks the silence first.

“Why did you come here, Michael? I was pretty sure you’d never want to see me again.”

She licks her lips, and the way his eyes flick down at the movement doesn’t escape her. Nothing about him escapes her any more. “I didn’t. Don’t.” Again his lip twitches, barely noticeable. “But you’re the only one who can tell me.”

He frowns, his handcuffs _clink_ ing against the cool metal of the table as he shifts in his seat. “Tell you what?”

“Why?”

Such a simple question, so fraught with meaning.

Lorca watches her for a long moment before he leans forward slightly. “We spoke about destiny once. Do you remember?” 

Of course she does. She has spent a lot of time thinking about the first time they met, about the things he told her. So transparent, in hindsight.

“Imagine being in my place. Finding yourself in a different universe, the same but slightly different. Waking up, your head ringing like a son of a bitch, and the first face you see is your own, except it’s not a mirror you’re looking at?” His gaze is piercing, intense, and she swallows drily.

“You didn’t have to kill them.”

“Didn’t I?” He chuckles darkly. “With what you know about my universe, you question that decision?” 

She has no answer to that because she sees the truth in what he says. Had she lived in the other universe, it would have been a natural course of action.

“When I sat in that shuttle, flying away from the Buran… I found you. In the Starfleet database. I was certain I was dreaming, hallucinating. How likely would it be to find the counterpart of the person...” He stops himself, looks at her, and she wants to run, more than ever.

“It wasn’t destiny that brought us together. You planned it all.”

He only shrugs, hands splayed before him. “To an extent. The ends justify the means.”

“Not here.” She wants to shake him, make him understand why he’s wrong, but she knows he’ll never be able to, just like she will never be able to understand his line of thinking.

He shrugs again, then leans back in his chair, pulls his hands into his lap. “You were… a surprise. Not what I expected.” He smiles, softly, gently, and it’s like he has taken her heart into his hands and squeezed. “My Michael was very, very different.” There is such affection and sadness in the way he says her name, it sends a shiver down her spine. He’s looking at her again but he doesn’t see her, she knows.

She can’t contain the sound of derision, and his face hardens slightly. “I really don’t care for your pretences of romantic recollections.”

He moves forward, quickly, smacks his hand down on the table, and she recoils, caught off guard. His face is transformed, angry, no, furious. “It’s _not_ a pretence.” There is rage in his eyes, and she _almost_ believes that he’s being truthful.

Still.

“Why should I believe you?”

Lorca takes a deep breath, the tension leaving his body. “You probably shouldn’t,” he says with a small chuckle. “You’re too smart to believe anything I say ever again.” He looks up at her again, and it’s like all the fight has gone out of him. “I loved her, and if you don’t believe me, that’s fine.” He gives a half-shrug, his nonchalance betraying the pain in his voice. “I… I watched her die, you know. I thought I’d lost her.”

Michael’s heart is in her throat, and despite all the atrocious things he has done, she realises that she feels sorry for him.

“I thought… Maybe I’d been given a second chance, for whatever reason. I know I’m not a good man. Successful in my universe, sure, but even there? Not good.” He chuckles again, but when he looks at her again, his eyes are tired. “What do you want from me, Michael? Really?”

She stares back at him in silence while her blood rushes in her ears. Finally, “Did you care? About any of them? Or were they all just your ticket back home?”

More silence as they stay caught in each other’s gaze, until he nods, slowly. “I did care. Surprisingly, I did.”

She rises to leave, and he catches her by the wrist as she walks past him, and she stares down at his hand for a second before she meets his eyes. “I never meant to hurt you, Michael. Never.”

He sounds so sincere, and she finds that at least in this, she believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy my work, please consider leaving a tip! http://ko-fi.com/gersemicosplay


End file.
